


Sleeping With Boots On

by ResidentHothead



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Middle School, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bullying, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Courtroom Drama, Foster Care, Homophobic Language, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Medication, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Social Anxiety, Therapy, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Violent Outburts, child services, underage tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-24 21:35:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13819896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ResidentHothead/pseuds/ResidentHothead
Summary: After Pa gets arrested under suspected child abuse, Daryl is given another chance at life. But it just seems too good to be true. Staying on his toes, keeping on his guard, Daryl is waiting for the other shoe to drop.(Previously titled Boy Unwanted)





	1. Hell Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Help

A swat on the ass was a silent, unspoken gesture that meant get your ass outta bed. His twenty five year old brother was already awake, cell phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder, walking back to their makeshift desk made of a board of wood lying across a couple of beat up filing cabinets that came directly from Atlanta City Dump. Daryl sat up groggily, rubbing at his eyes. The first thing he noticed when he awoke, was that it was fucking cold in here. Winter was setting in, and it was seemingly brutal this year. It'd been tolerable when Daryl had crawled into bed last night in just a pair of skibbies and a tank top, but now it was cold enough to regret that decision. Scrambling out of bed, Daryl struggled into a worn flannel and a pair of baggy, torn jeans that used to belong to Merle. Then again, so did the shirt. Daryl didn't really have many articles of clothing that hadn't been Merle's first. But that was fine. He didn't mind.  
  
Fixing his dirty blonde hair in the mirror, Daryl exited his and Merle's bedroom, freezing in place when he saw that Pa was standing in front of their door. And he looked angry. Daryl quickly averted his eyes, but he was shoved out of the way, barging in to go scream at Merle for something. And the breath of relief he let out once he reached the bathroom was near overwhelming. Fuck, Pa scared him. He didn't hate Pa like Merle did. He just wanted Pa to like him. Asking for Pa's love was asking too much, even Daryl was smart enough to know that. But maybe his Daddy could just like him, even just a little? Fat chance, but sometimes it was nice to let himself wallow in foolish hope, even for a moment.  
  
The bruise on his eye was starting to fade now, which was good. Mr. Horvath had been awful nosey about it, and Daryl really hadn't needed another run in with Child Services. Assholes, he hated them. And the police. They were obnoxious too. No one could just leave this damn family alone and leave them be. It's not like anyone actually cared about what happened to Daryl, it's just that in a small community like this, people didn't have much to do but feed off of drama. And it pissed Daryl off to no end. He liked being alone, he didn't need anybody. Not even Merle, if it really came down to it. He just hoped it didn't have to. So he finished brushing his teeth and rinsed his mouth, heading out of the bathroom. Breakfast could be skipped this morning, there was nothing to eat anyway. Grabbing up his backpack, Daryl headed out the door and began his walk to school.   
  
The first ten minutes of the walk was in complete solitude down an empty dirt road that barely anyone traveled this time of morning. Or even any other time of the day. So Daryl could walk right in the middle and enjoy the damp morning air, watching as the world woke up around him. The sun was just starting to come up, and the fresh waves that hit Daryl's pale face were relaxing. Pure nature was something special to Daryl. He always basked in it every morning on the walks to school. And it was the only time he could ever truly feel safe during the week. No one to beat on him or call him names or anything of that sort. Just birds chirping and cicadas humming and the forest coming to life. He even saw a family of deer scurry across his path. It was a good morning.  
  
Until, he reached school. He really didn't want to be here. King's County Middle School was undoubtedly the worst place on earth. Daryl hated it. The kids all looked at him like he was a freak, and all the teachers had had Merle years before, so they already didn't like him. Just because he was branded with the damned name of Dixon. He stuck to the far end of the school yard, smoking a cigarette by the baseball field before the bell rang. Besides one of the dumb football players rudely shoving past him in the hall, he had no issues making his way to class. English was first with Mr. Horvath. His eyes were glued onto Daryl's figure as he made his way to the back of the room and immediately grabbed out his homework to look over. A disgrace. Handwriting sloppy, words mispelled, letters capitlized in awkward, incorrect places. Hell, it was a miracle that Daryl had even spelled his own name correctly.   
  
The more Daryl stared at the paper, the angrier he got. He soon crumpled the stupid paper up in a ball and got up from his seat, marching over to the trash can, bumping the dumb Grimes kid on the way by.  
"Oh, sorry." Rick apologized, even though it was clearly Daryl’s fault their shoulders collided. Whipping the wad of paper into the basket, Daryl stomped back to his seat, the only acknowledgement of Rick he gave was his middle finger up, pointing in the other boy’s direction.  
  
"You got somethin’a say, _Dixon_?" Daryl heard Shane spit out from behind him, like his name was even repulsing to be said aloud. And in this town, it kinda was. Daryl spun around to glare at Walsh, who was much bigger and stronger than Daryl. But he wasn’t afraid. He and Shane traded blows at least three times a week.   
"Watch it Walsh, ain’t inna mood."  
"’Ain’t inna mood’." Shane mocked in an exaggerated accent that was only a little over the top compared to Daryl’s. "Shut it, Dixon. You ain’t got no business flippin’ Rick the finger."  
_"Bite me."_ And that was the last straw, Shane went barrelling towards him and tackled him to the floor, fists flying. But Daryl was vicious, scratching and biting to accompany his own punches. Daryl ended up reversing the position, on top of Shane and wailing on the other boy. It hadn’t lasted long, however, because he was soon raised up off of Shane and dangling in the air from underneath his arms where Mr. Horvath held him up and away from Shane, while Rick made sure Shane didn’t go after Daryl again.  
"That is _enough_." Mr. Horvath hissed, sitting Daryl down on a nearby desk. "Do not make me get Mrs. Harris down here." And Daryl certainly didn’t want that. Mrs. Harris was Andrea’s mother and also the principal. And Daryl fucking hated them both. After an exchanged scowl between the boys, they both stalked back to opposite ends of the room to take their seats, and class began without further incident.  
  
"Looks like Shane made your black eye even worse." Glenn commented to Daryl, passing him half of his sandwich as he sat down next to the Dixon boy. Daryl never had lunch or money for it, so Glenn began sharing a couple years back. And it’s just become a thing.   
"Yeah, all cuz I flipped off his boyfriend." Daryl bit out bitterly before sinking his teeth into his half of Glenn’s sandwich. Ham and cheese today. Daryl fucking hated ham. But you know what? Food is food, and Daryl scarfed down that fucking sandwich since he knew it was likely that his next meal wouldn’t be for another 24 hours, another shitty half of Glenn’s sandwich. Though this is the part of the day he looked forward to most. Especially since he and Glenn hid out in the gym at lunch time, on the top corner of the bleachers while all the lights were off. It was to avoid all the nasty bullies like Shane and Dwight and Phillip and Simon. They were all nasty. And Daryl hated them. Unlike Glenn, he fought back against them. Glenn just used his fucking legs and ran. And that was ok, Glenn wasn’t much use in a fight anyways. Plus he was fast, so fleeing the scene actually worked in his favor.   
  
Glenn snorted out a laugh, leaning against the cold wall behind them. "Yeah, what’d ya do that for?" He inquired, amused with his friend. Daryl was so edgy and cool even though everyone else hated him.  
"Cuz I bumped him and _he_ apologized. Miss me with that shit, fuck outta ‘ere." Daryl scoffed, annoyed. Rick was too nice, sometimes and it really bothered him. In some weird way, it felt like Rick was fucking mocking him and he was going to shut that shit down right away.  
"That’s Rick Grimes for ya. Goody-goody." Glenn nodded in agreement, finishing his sandwich. "You going to the Christmas Dance next week?" He knew better than to ask, he really did. But how else could he bring it up.  
"Course not, ain’t doin’ that sissy shit. Don’ got money for the gift exchange crap neither." Daryl rolled his eyes at his friend. "Get’cher head on straight, Chinaman."  
"I’m _Korean_." Glenn corrected, which only earned him a snort. "Was thinkin’a asking Maggie Greene to go with me."  
"Maggie Greene? A grade older than us, father’s the school nurse Maggie Greene?" Daryl glanced over to Glenn, who gave him a nod in confirmation.  
"She’s just.. _so pretty_ , y’know? But I always feel like I’m going to puke whenever I think about talking to her and then my hands get sweaty and I even start stuttering in my own _thoughts_."  
"Do all of that when you talk to her."  
"You’re not helping." Glenn groaned.   
"Y’all think I got any game?" Daryl scoffed, finishing his sandwich rather quickly, taking a swig of water from his battered plastic water bottle he’s had for a week now.  
"Good point, maybe I can ask Michonne."  
"Her and Mike ain’t doin’ so well."  
"Then she can tell me what _not_ to do."  
Daryl snorted a laugh. "If you insist."  
  
The walk home from school was just as scerene and picturesque as the one this morning, if not more. The sun shining through the trees despite the cold afternoon, the crunch of the cold dirt under Daryl’s feet and birds singing were relaxing. It was a good day, all and all, Daryl had decided. He held his shitty backpack on one shoulder with the strap that was barely able to remain attatched to the rest of the pack at this point, eyes closed as he slowly made his way back home. His entire body was cold, he really should be wearing a coat, but he didn’t have one so fuck that idea. It was nice though, Daryl enjoyed the cool air, being engulfed in it was like taking a relaxing cold shower, but without his own self awkwardness.  
  
He opened the door to the shitty shack he lived in and had stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his father standing there, livid. He hoped maybe he was going to go off and find Merle again to yell at, but the way he gripped his belt tighter in his hand told Daryl that Merle wouldn’t be home for a while. Dropping his bag, Daryl turned and sprinted back out the door. But he wasn’t fast enough. He never was. Pa caught up to him quickly and grabbed him up, throwing his small, lanky body over his large shoulder and took him back into the house, kicking and screaming be damned. He was thrown to the crusty, dirty carpet without mercy, something slapping down next to him. He looked at what had landed beside him after a moment of hesitation, and he could just feel his soul leaving his body at what he laid his eyes on. His dirty magazine he had hidden under his mattress. It was filled with beefy, muscular men in little to no clothing, all shiny and smiley, posing for the camera. Daryl had stolen it from the drug store half a mile down the road a good month and a half ago. But Pa had found it. His mind was racing. Had Merle found it and ratted him out? Did Pa just go through their room today? Maybe this morning. Was Merle holding out on him with money again? Maybe he thought Mer was hiding money under Daryl’s mattress and discovered something way more heinous a crime than Merle keeping money from him?   
  
Death was very much welcomed, but of course the universe had to spite him and not give him that sweet release. Instead what he got was a brutal beating, his back split open from how hard he’d been being whipped with his father’s belt, and there was words being screamed at him that Daryl could only assume were vulgar and hurtful, but he was too disoriented from a good kick to the head to really make out what was happening. He was bleeding a lot, that much he knew. And his back was stinging something awful, shirt torn and soaked with both blood and sweat, tears never ceasing their journey from his eyes and down his cheeks. The hits just kept coming and coming. Pa just kept hitting him and hitting him and hitting him, like he was never going to stop. And honestly, with how angry Pa was, that was a huge possibility.   
  
The hits soon ceased but the yelling continued. Daryl couldn’t make out what was going on, but a familiar grip on his arm yanked him up and dragged him back to the safety of his bedroom. Merle. Merle had just walked in and saved him from anymore lashings. He was so thankful, he tried to mutter out a thank you, but it came out as gibberish babbling. Merle only told him to shut the fuck up and everything went black after that.

 


	2. Pain.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl attempts to get through the school day with his injuries, but people are so goddamned nosey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What am I doing

It was difficult to hide the limp as he made his way into the classroom, a good half hour late due to his slow pace. All eyes were on him, he could feel it, but he kept his hood pulled up of Merle’s hoodie and his head down, just heading back to his seat. The whispered and snickers at his state didn’t go unnoticed, but he definitely ignored them. He didn’t care what these fucking assholes thought of him. They could all die in a fucking explosion for all Daryl cared. He pulled out his blank homework sheet, scribbling his name on the top to hand in. He didn’t do it last night, and honestly, he felt better handing in a blank piece of paper than something he struggled and tried his best on. His best was garbage anyway.  
  
Mr. Horvath tried to talk to him as he collected his homework, but gave up after a few non-commital grunts and even a hiss. Normal twelve year old boys didn’t hiss like a rabies infested animal, so it definitely prompted some odd looks to be thrown in his direction. They were also ignored. He just got on with his classwork and struggled to make it through the day. He brushed off Glenn in the hallway, making a stop at the bathroom to take a breather. He could make it through today. Then he could fucking go home and sleep. Leaning over the sink carefully, he stuck his head under the faucet and sprayed some cold water into his mouth, gulping it down greedily. Sink water tasted shit, but it was more than what came out of the bubbler.   
  
Daryl took a few painful deep breaths, wishing Merle would’ve let him have some pain medication that he had. But no, he just dealt with Merle’s half assed cleaning of his wounds and wrapping of gauze that stung like a motherfucker for the first 12 hours. After that the pain toned down a bit, or maybe he just got used to it. It really didn’t matter. He made a hasty exit from the bathroom once his mind wondered to the 3 hour long scolding he got from Merle for having that magazine in his possession in the first place, and that he’d beat the gay out of Daryl himself if he ever pulled that shit again. He wasn’t sure if Merle would actually do so, Merle had never hit him unprovoked, and it was usually when Daryl hit him first or threw something at him or ran his mouth or anything that warranted a good ass kicking from his older brother. But this threat was different from the others. This one was a promise of literal hell, one Daryl wasn’t ready to call Merle on his bluff in case he wasn’t fucking around.   
  
Mrs. Grimes’ class wasn’t so bad. Ok, yes it was. Math was fucking torture, and Daryl knew he was at least three grade levels behind from the rest of the class. It was humiliating. And stupid Rick wouldn’t fucking stop glancing over at him. Daryl could always tell when Rick was looking, cuz he wasn’t subtle about it. Not at all. He’d turn his whole fucking head and look at Daryl. How was he that dumb? At one point Daryl slammed his fists down on the top of his fucking desk, startling most of the class.   
"Grimes I’m gonna shove my boot down yer fuckin’ _throat_ if ya don’t quit lookin’ at me!" He snapped, glaring daggers at Rick. Rick’s eyes went wide, stunned that Daryl had actually called him out.   
"Sorry I--"  
"No one was lookin’ atch’a, Dixon." Shane snarled. "No one _wants to_."  
"No, I was." Rick admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I just-- like your sweatshirt."  
"’s Merle’s." Daryl grumbled, going back to his work. Ignoring the glare from Shane, Rick gave his mother an apologetic work for his actions having disturbed Daryl and the rest of the class.   
  
"You look _awful_." Glenn winced as he saw Daryl’s appearance, offering half of his sandwich. But Daryl shook his head, refusing it today.   
"Jus’ a fight."  
"With _who_? The freakin’ _Hulk_??" Glenn wasn’t really buying it. He had a suspicion that something was going on with Daryl more specifically, at home.   
"Y’all should see th’ other guy." Daryl forced a grin, eyes closed, head leaning back against the wall but made sure his back wouldn’t make contact with it.   
"Uhuh.." Glenn had a feeling that the ‘other guy’ hardly had a scratch, if even that. Daryl was hiding something, and well, he didn’t feel comfortable with it. Not one bit. "Is it.. is it your dad?" And by the way Daryl’s eyes snapped open, Glenn knew he’d already pushed too much.  
"Y’all don’ fuckin’ know nothin’! Jus’ leave me be!" Daryl shouted at him, getting up and stomping down the bleachers. The loud footsteps echoed in the empty gym, and soon Glenn was left alone.   
  
Daryl grumbled as he made his way out to the schoolyard, muttering cusses about Glenn under his breath. He was so irritated that he hadn’t even noticed he’d run right into Shane until he was flat on his ass.   
"The fuck, Dixon??" Shane hissed out as soon as he spun around, already pissed at the other boy’s presence.   
"It was an accident, Shane." Rick pulled at him, trying to entise him back into the conversation they were having with T-Dog and Carol.   
"Don’t fuckin’ matter, he should watch where he’s goin’." Shane gritted his teeth, giving Rick a mean look.  
"Ya right, Shane." Daryl stood up.  
"I am, aren’t I?"  
"I shoulda seen yer big fuckin’ head from a mile away." Daryl tried to shove past Shane, but he was immediately back on his ass again, face throbbing from the punch he’d just recieved.   
"Fuck you!"  
"Eat shit!" Daryl kicked at Shane’s shin, but Shane took it like a fucking champ and kicked Daryl onto his back, foot on his chest. And Daryl cried out all too loudly for what Shane had done. Fuck, he was startled. And so were the other three. Rick yanked Shane off and dropped to his knees to check on Daryl.   
"Shane, what did you _do_?!"  
"No fuckin’ way that hurt him! No way! He’s gotta be lying!" Shane sputtered, looking so goddamn lost.   
  
The injuries had reopened on his back, blood dripping down his back and soaking into his pants. He pushed Rick away and struggled to his feet, but he knew damn well Rick saw the blood from the gasp he’d let out.   
"Jus’ a cut, fuckin’ _relax_." He tried to make it seem like Rick was overreacting, and decided it’d be easier if he just fled the scene, nearly running Carol over. Needing to get back to the bathroom, Daryl was running. But it was fucking painful. He soon slowed back into a pathetic limp, deciding to hide out here for the rest of the day. No one used the bathroom by the cafeteria anyway, not for the second half of the day.  
  
The walk home nearly killed him. And if bed didn’t sound so fucking nice right now, he probably would’ve let it. He crept into the house silently and quickly darted into his room, collapsing onto his bed, letting out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. The room was dark and empty, because Merle was gone again. And Daryl didn’t know when he’d be back. He just closed his eyes and drifted off to a much welcomed sleep.   
  
"GET ON THE GROUND!" The sound of the front door being kicked in and police sirens and yelling had startled Daryl awake. Quickly jumping up from his bed, he opened his door and sprinted down the hallway to see all what all the commotion was about. When he rounded the corner, he saw a few police officers wrestling his father to the ground, cuffing his hands behind his back. _Shit_. He was about to back away, but a tall man in a suit had stepped in, locking eyes with Daryl. He hadn’t ever seen this man before. It was usually just cops. So when the man started for Daryl, he turned and ran out the kitchen door.

 


	3. Uprooting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl gets a social worker and is taken to a temporary home while his father is questioned and processed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the title of this story finally and I fixed the summery. I finally have a direction I'd like to take this story in, and I hope you guys like it!

The man's name was Milton Mammet. He explained he was a social worker, and that he was here to help. That is, after he managed to drag Daryl back to the house. He knew he wouldn't've gotten caught if he wasn't so tired and in pain. But he was. So he needed to deal with this shit now. There was a dumb police officer still waiting back at the house, something about his eyes looked familiar. He introduced himself to Daryl, who couldn't bring himself to care about the goddamn pig. He just wanted everyone to leave and let him sleep. But when this was expressed, Mr. Mammet said Daryl would not be staying here. And that Officer Dickhead here was going to let Daryl spend the night at his home until they could find a more suitable place for him.   
  
So protests and objections be damned, Daryl found himself stuffing a trash bag with his meager belongings. Clothes. That's about all he really owned. But when Mr. Mammet was talking to the officer, Daryl snuck in his hunting knife and crossbow. He doubted his bag would be checked anyway. On that note, he threw in a lighter and a pack of Merle's cigs he left behind. He couldn't find any money, so that was a damn shame. After picking up his school bag, he hauled the trash bag over his shouler and they headed out. Mr. Mammet tried to explain how he was now going to be his 'case worker', but Daryl wasn't interested. Everything would be back to normal soon enough. Why? Because Daryl wasn't going to tell these people a damn thing. There's nothing worse than betraying blood. Even if it _was_ Pop. He wasn't so sure Merle agreed, but loyalty was one of Daryl's only good traits. And he wasn't about to rat on Pa for beatings he deserved. Some of them he felt he didn't, but those were the Just In Case beatings. Just in case Daryl fucked up, he'd get the beating before he got the chance to do anything wrong. He liked the Just In Case beatings better, because they hurt less, there wasn't as much rage behind them.  
  
Who woulda thought a Dixon would be riding shotgun in a cop car? Not Daryl. But when the officer opened up the door to the passenger side, Daryl was honestly surprised. But he got in anyway. His record was fucking _clean_ , the only thing Daryl was proud of. So he would keep it that way, and he vowed to never see the back seat of a cruiser. First person view, sitting back there anyway. And he just barely avoided it tonight. He didn't buckle his seatbelt, it just wasn't what he did. But the officer reached over him and buckled it across his chest for him. Whatever. It wasn't really much a difference to Daryl anyway. He knew how to unhook it if need be. Or his hunting knife could definitely cut through the straps no problem.   
  
The ride to the officer's house was quiet. No flashing lights, no sirens. The only noise was the quiet engine and the officer's small talk.  
"They should be sleeping, but my boys will probably be awake waiting for me. They always do. My daughter, she’s still a baby, she better be passed out. Melissa, my wife, always leaves her to me to put down. And it’s nearing 11 o’clock now, so I hope she just did so herself." He rambled on, but Daryl could see the unease in the man’s eyes. Probably from sitting so close to a Dixon. Someone he didn’t even _know_ had two weapons right at his feet. Or knew how to draw the man’s own gun on him, curtisy of ‘Pig Training’ from Merle. Daryl could just kill the man right here if he really wanted to. Hell, Merle’s voice was in his head, taunting him to do it. But he wouldn’t. He wasn’t Merle. He wasn’t Pa. He didn’t like people, but he had no interest in violence towards them anymore extreme than a good ol’ street fight consisting of only fists.   
  
"You go to King’s County Middle School, right?" The officer asked, and Daryl just answered with a one shouldered shrug. "Well, my boy goes there. The other one will soon, but he’s only 9 right now."   
"Interesting.." Daryl muttered sarcastically under his breath, which he recieved a snort of laughter from the officer.   
"Sorry, I get carried away with the small talk."  
"With criminals?"  
"You’re not a criminal, son."  
"Ain’t your son." And he gave Daryl that sad eye’d side glace. Just because it was dark didn’t mean Daryl didn’t catch it. He slumped down in his seat, scowling.  
"You’re going to be safe now, Daryl." The officer tried to reassure.  
"Nowhere’s safe." Daryl sighed, gazing out the window.   
  
The rest of the ride was silent as they pulled into a beautiful suburban neighborhood. Daryl couldn’t even imagine what it looked like when the sun was shining. Just the glow of the street lights made Daryl feel infurior, seeing how the well kept street was dimly lit up. The officer pulled into a driveway of a large blue house and turned off the car.   
"C’mon in. We don’t bite." The officer chanced another smile at Daryl, but it was ignored. Daryl yanked off the seatbelt and opened the door, getting out and grabbing his stuff. Up on the porch the bug zapper was buzzing and the overhead light flickered slightly. It wasn’t perfect, but it’s better than anything ever imagined. The tv was clearly on inside, to which the officer sighed. "Boys are still up.." He unlocked the door and walked in, beckoning for Daryl to enter. And he did, ever so slowly step through that threshold into the picture perfect family home. It was clean, and family pictures littered every corner. Into the den the tv was on and three boys were laid out on blankets on the floor.   
"Dad!" A nine year old boy with blue eyes, short brown hair, and a face of freckles ran up to the officer and hugged him tightly.|  
"Hey Carl. It’s _way_ past your bedtime."  
"It’s the _weekend_." Carl whined, and the officer turned on the light to the den.   
"Rick, Shane. It’s almost midnight." And Daryl froze. Of fucking _course_ the cop that stayed behind was dumb Rick Grimes’ dad!   
"Relax ol’ man." Shane scoffed a laugh. "Movie’s almost--" He turned around, eyes narrowed in on Daryl who was now standing awkwardly to Mr. Grimes’ side. Rick looked around too, definitely surprised to see the Dixon boy standing in his home.  
  
"What’s _he_ doing here?" Shane snarled, standing up.   
"He’s spending the night, maybe staying longer. And you will be _nice_ to him." Mr. Grimes suddenly got serious and stern with Shane like he were his own kid. Practically is, with how close he and Rick are.  
"How come?" Rick asked, his voice not at all hostile like Shane’s had been.  
"If Daryl feels like he wants to tell you, he will. Otherwise, it’s not my place to stay. Daryl, you get comfortable, alright bud? I’ll get you set up on the couch. The boys are camping out in the living room, so I thought you could join them." With a small nudge, Daryl was pushed into the den. He didn’t like this already. The three other boys had their eyes on him, he felt like some sort of fucking freak show.   
  
"Come sit." Rick motioned after Mr. Grimes left the room. Daryl was hesitant, but walked over and sat down next to Rick.   
"Why are you here?" Shane asked, tone less hostile but still unhappy with the situation at hand.   
"M’ ol’ man got arrested for some bullshit charges. They can’t prove nothin’, he’ll be out in a couple days." Daryl explained with a shrug. It wasn’t a big deal if a Dixon got arrested. They always got out sooner or later.  
"That’s rough, man." Rick tried to comfort.  
"That’s the Dixons, for ya!" Shane snorted, laying back down on his blanket.  
"Oh shut it, Shane." Carl snapped, smacking the older boy on the forehead.   
"Ow! Carl what the hell??" Shane rubbed his forehead.   
"Don’t be nasty." Rick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.   
  
"What are you watching?" Daryl asked Rick, deciding to change the topic.  
"The Other Guys." Rick grinned, pointing to the screen. "It’s a cop-comedy movie. These two guys, Terry Hoitz and Allen Gamble are cops that people don’t take seriously because Allen is the comic relief character and Terry shot a baseball player on accident. So when the two best cops die on duty, Terry thinks he and Allen can step up and take their place. Only other guys want the place too, and Allen really doesn’t want to be in the limelight. He thinks being the accountant for the police department is just fine. But Terry wants to be more than a simple detective and actually _forces_ Allen on a call with him at _gunpoint_ and the plot spirals on from there." He explained, and Daryl nodded, just barely following along.   
  
"So they’re... good cops?"  
"Yep." Rick nodded.  
"Sounds lame. Merle one time showed me this movie with cops, only they were _dirty cops_ and they did bank hiests and drug trafficking and stuff, and then the next day they’d go to the scene of the crime and pretend to investigate it, but really they were secretly destroying any incriminating evidence they coulda left behind."  
"Did they get caught?" Shane asked, actually kind of interested.  
"Dunno, tv exploded."  
"It _exploded_??" Carl gasped.   
"Yeah, Merle shot it and it exploded."  
"Why’d he do that?"  
"He was fuckin’ drunk. That’s the only explanation I can give ya." Rick snickered, shaking his head. That was definitely the Merle Dixon he heard rumors about.  
  
"Seems like you boys are having a good time." Mr. Grimes commented, bringing in a couple pillows and blankets, setting up the couch for Daryl to sleep on. "Climb on up here, Daryl. I’ll cover you up." He motioned with a nod of his head, holding the blanket up. Daryl did as he was told, laying down. "You can take your boots off, you know."  
"Do I gotta..?" Daryl asked quietly, looking a little distressed.   
"No, not if you don’t want to." Mr. Grimes left the matter alone for now, draping a couple blankets over Daryl’s body.   
"1am I’ll be back down here. And if all four of you aren’t sleeping... Well... I don’t know. I’ll only give you each _three_ strips of bacon tomorrow." Mr. Grimes threatened, which the three other boys gasped at.  
"You don’t gotta be so cruel." Shane groaned.   
"The four of us?"  
"You’re staying here Daryl, that means meals too."  
"What’s the catch?" There was no fucking way he was buying this. There was no free food, no free bedding, no free anything. There was always a catch.  
"There _is_ no catch. Why would there be?" And it angered Daryl how confused the man above him looked. Like he was trying to pull one over on Daryl, trick him into doing something wrong so he could arrest him or hit him. But he wouldn’t fall for that shit.  
" _Sure_." Was all Daryl said on the matter, turning his back to the man. Mr. Grimes didn’t know what to say, so he just left it. Saying goodnight to the boys, he hit the light and headed off to bed.   
  
Carl, Rick and Shane settled back down and tuned back into their movie, which Daryl just listened to, facing the back of the couch. He didn’t know why, but this dumb expensive couch was so comfy and it made him nice and sleepy. He didn’t trust this place, but knowing there was definitely a gun on the property Daryl could quickly locate, he could fall asleep knowing something _might not_ happen. And that’s all he really needed tonight after the ruckus and confusion the night had provided.

 


	4. Avoiding Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl isn't too happy with his current situation. So he decides to just avoid his issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah fluff soon ya fegs

Breakfast was... awkward. Sitting with one of his teachers, a cop, two kids from school, a seven year old (or nine, Daryl couldn't remember) and an infant.. Well, definitely nothing he was used to. He ate slowly despite his stomach's protests, trying his hardest to be a least bit civil. Though it wasn't exactly working out too well, seeing the odd looks thrown his way. So Daryl kept his head down until the boys got up from the table to go play videogames and Mrs. Grimes began cleaning up baby Judith.   
  
"We have to head out to the station, soon." Mr. Grimes informed Daryl, who slumped in his seat.  
"Do we have to?" Because the police station was actually his least favorite place in this whole town.  
Mr. Grimes only nodded his head sadly, heading upstairs to go finish putting his uniform on. "Be ready to go in ten minutes!"  
"Stupid.." Daryl muttered, sliding out of his seat.   
"It shouldn’t be that bad, hon." Mrs. Grimes said from across the room, an attempt at comfort as she picked up her baby daughter. "Would you like to hold her?" She asked, holding out Judith.   
Daryl contemplated it for a moment before taking the baby into his arms, resting her upon his hip. "Hi Judy." His voice was almost a whisper as he used his free hand to caress the small girl’s head and pet her hair. "Hey Sweetheart." A small smile was brought to his lips as he cuddled the tiny baby. She was the picture of purity and innocence, something Daryl hasn’t really gotten to witness in his lifetime until now. And she was so small and fragile. But he knew he could be careful. She was lighter than his crossbow, which he definitely handled with care. So a baby? Piece of cake.  
  
He cooed and played with the baby until Mr. Grimes returned in his uniform. And that's when Daryl knew the fun had ended. He was escorted out to the cruiser with his less-than-dignified trash bag of stuff and he was taken down to the station. Mr. Grimes attempted to explain that he would have to question Daryl and all he had to do was tell the truth. But Daryl wasn't listening. He knew how cops worked. You can't trust 'em. Not even the nice ones who give you food and a place to sleep. No, there was something this man was playing at. And Daryl would figure out just what it was.   
  
Mr. Walsh greeted them and Daryl was taken into the interrogation room. Both men sat across from Daryl, and it was unnerving. How Merle did this every other month, he didn't know. But his expression remained stoic as they began throwing out questions about home and Pa and bruises and Daryl told them everything was fine. Pa never hit him. Money was as good as it could be in today's econemy. Basically, telling them a bullshit string of lies he knew they didn't believe, but couldn't prove him wrong, neither. Pa was a good man, Daryl lied. Having a rough time, who wouldn't be when the whole town is talking shit about you and accusing you to be some sort of abuser? Well, he is. But not really in Daryl's mind. He wasn't a good man, either. He was just.. Pa. And every hit Daryl felt he deserved. He wasn't being _abused_. No, that's not something that had ever crossed Daryl's mind. _Everyone_ gets their ass handed to them by their fathers everytime they're bad. It just so happens that Daryl is a piece of shit and it's more often than most kids. Same with Merle when he was growing up. Now it was Daryl's turn. He hated Pa's beatings, but he didn't hate Pa. Why would he? As far as he was concerned, despite maybe the horrid money situation and the lack of electricity more than half of the time, Daryl assumed his life was pretty normal.  
  
Why had he lied about the beatings though? Because these were cops. And they'd take one piece of information and add on and on and on until they got a fucking Nazi-Terrorist-Serial Killer case. And that's not what Daryl wanted for Pa. He just wanted Pa asleep in his chair in front of the TV, Merle out front fiddling with his bike, and Daryl in the woods, being at peace with everything. Unfortunately, Pa was in jail, Merle was nowhere to be found, and Daryl was sitting in a room with Dumb and Dumber who tried and failed to get any kind of information out of him. The session came to an abrupt end when Daryl asked if he could have a lawyer. And that only irritated Officer Walsh. He had a temper like his son, and he sure as fuck didn't mind throwing a storm of cusses at Daryl everytime he mouthed off. And it was honestly amusing, since Rick's dad could hardly keep him calm. He was done with this. All of this. He didn't want to be in a strange house no more, he didn't want to be questioned about stuff that was supposed to be normal, and he sure as fuck didn't want to be around the fake ass Grimes family no more.   
  
When the interrogation was over, Mr. Grimes told Daryl to wait in the lobby while he and Mr. Walsh went off, talking in hushed voices. The minute the door closed behind them, Daryl bolted out the exit. _Fuck this_. He ran into the woods behind the station, trash bag in tow. They'd never find him. Not unless he wanted to be found. And he didn't. He could hear his name being called faintly after he was already deep into the forest. He could stick it out here for the weekend. Going home wasn't an option, they'd expect that of him. It was too obvious a hideout. So a weekend roughing it would do.

* * *

  
 The first snow of the year covered Daryl in a light dusting as he awoke at sunup Monday morning. But he didn't mind. He was cold and wet now, but it was nature. And he loved it, no matter how uncomfortable it was to be in wet, cold clothes. Dropping his trash bag off at his house, right up on the back porch, Daryl started to school. The walk was calming, familiar. Like nothing was wrong in the world. Only when he approached the doors, Daryl realized he had forgotten his school bag at Rick's house. Dumbass move. Well, he was sure Rick would bring it if he asked him to. Not that he actually wanted to ask Rick Grimes _anything_. The guy was too nice, what kind of psychopath _was_ he? Daryl didn't want to find out.   
  
However, his first class of the day was with Rick and Shane. Mr. Horvath's class. Shooting a death glare at Mr. Horvath as he walked in, Daryl attempted to make it to the back of the room without being stopped. Only, Rick stopped him. _This fucking guy_.  
"Hey, Daryl." Rick smiled at him all friendly like with those perfect white teeth that made Daryl just wanna punch ‘em all down the other kid’s throat. "You didn’t come back on Saturday. Where’d you go?" He asked, like he actually gave a shit. And this wasn’t too pleasing to Daryl.  
Letting out a small scoff and a roll of the eyes, Daryl glanced up at the slightly taller boy, looking about as annoyed as he felt. "Woods. Didn’ wanna be in no fancy house. Too crowded." He sneered, trying to make it sound insulting, but Rick seemed unfazed. Fuck this guy. "Well, Judy missed you." Rick admitted, only making Daryl’s eyes narrow in suspicion. "She can’t even talk yet, she didn’ miss nobody. Least of all tell y’all’at." And with that, Daryl rudely bumped past Rick and headed to the back of the class to plop down in his seat and sit angrily. He was angry at everyone. He didn’t even know why he bothered to go to school today. Maybe he just needed something familiar after the crazy fucking Friday night he had.   
  
Glenn looked surprised to see Daryl walking over to him at lunchtime. "Hey, man." He smiled gratefully. "I thought you were mad at me."  
"Nah." Daryl shook his head, taking half of Glenn’s stupid fucking ham and cheese sandwich that he all but stuffed down his throat whole. "Jus’ on edge. Pa’s locked up. They’s tryin’a put me in some dumb home. Ain’t gonna happen." He explained after finishing his half of the sandwich, eyes rolling for the second time today as Glenn stared at him sadly.   
Glenn shifted uncomfortably, knowing it was walking on eggshells when speaking to Daryl, especially in such a fragile situation such as this one. "Did the cops talk ta ya?"  
"Tol’ ‘em nothin’. Don’ need no damn pigs snoopin’ ‘round. I jus’ want Merle. Dunno where the faggot is, though."   
Snorting at Daryl’s choice of words, Glenn leaned back a little too far and ended up falling between the next row of seats up and the one he had been sitting on, bum right in the footspace. " _Ow_." But he didn’t fix himself, just stayed wedged between the bleachers. "Well, I hope he shows up soon. He can fix this mess, right?"  
"Tha’s what I’m hopin’." Daryl snickered, smacking Glenn’s hat down to cover his face.  
_"Hey._ But, uh, I’m gonna sign up to be a stage hand on the school musical that’s coming up. You wanna help? Because otherwise I know I’d be doing it all by myself." Glenn offered, even though it was more to benefit himself than Daryl. But Daryl decided to agree anyway. And they’d meet in the auditorium after school.  
  
Apparently the play had already been casted and it was in the works of Rehershal. If Daryl was a fucking loser, he might’ve kept up with it. Winter Musicals were lame. But he was rather surprised to find out both Rick and Shane were casted. But that surprise was quickly washed away when he saw the girls all fawning over Shane in his dumb, tight costume, showing off his impressive muscles for a thirteen year old. Football season was over, so they were free to do the dumb play.  
  
Beauty and the Beast. Bleh. But it made sense that Shane was casted as Gaston. They practically had the same personality with the intelligence of a rock to match. Daryl couldn’t help but laugh when he saw that Lori had been casted as Belle. She wasn’t no beauty. Not in Daryl’s eyes. But he supposed that maybe she was attrative, just not to him because for some god awful reason, he wasn’t attracted to girls. Rick being the Beast though, that would be a sight. His brown, unruly curls at the top of his head already made him sort of look the part. And he assumed Rick and Lori were already a thing, they flirted enough to be convincing. So it was probably a couple’s audition type thing or whatever.   
  
Daryl helped Glenn move backdrops across the stage and work the lights and music. And honestly, it was fun. He and Glenn made fun of everyone on stage who missed their cues, and Shane mostly. They couldn’t tell if he was a good or bad actor. He was literally Gaston, and it cracked the two of them up. And Daryl finally found out why Glenn wanted to work back stage. Maggie Greene was Mrs. Potts. Of course. He’d stare at the big teapot farm girl whenever he got a second to do so, only to be nudged by Daryl to pay the fuck attention. The only mishap is when the dungeon background fell on Glenn and Daryl tried to pull it off of him, but he was laughing so fucking hard that he couldn’t move it properly, and Maggie had to help him out, though she started laughing as well, and they dropped it on him again. When they finally got it off and moved out of the way, Glenn, flustered, dashed backstage behind the curtain to hide. It was still funny.

 


End file.
